


Been Everywhere and Back

by crowbarwolf



Category: Skulduggery Pleasant - Derek Landy
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Fluid Sexuality, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-27
Updated: 2014-02-27
Packaged: 2018-01-13 23:16:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1244161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crowbarwolf/pseuds/crowbarwolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ghastly gives Fletcher another thirty minutes to properly digest his food before he asks, face utterly blank of emotion, "So have you thought on our conversation about having it on with another bloke?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Been Everywhere and Back

**Author's Note:**

> i don't even know what this is i mean. it's been what, a year since i last wrote something? honestly, i'm surprised i even managed to write something. writer's block is a bitch. hope you enjoy this, at least. also: this is unbeta'd.

"I have terrible taste in women," Fletcher announces loudly, after his fifth glass of vodka.

They're at a bar Fletcher's often frequents, somewhere isolated and quiet and still, thankfully, in Ireland. It's half past midnight and Ghastly is feeling sorry for whoever owns the place. It's not everyday that someone broke into your place without _literally_ breaking anything and stealing all your expensive liquors.

Ducking his head, Ghastly downs what remains in his glass in one gulp. He doesn't feel like he's drunk enough for this shit.

Not that he ever will in this particular night, with the way Fletcher is swaying on his stool, drinking shots after shots like they're plain water instead of pure Russian vodka. They had found it hidden behind a dozen bottles of French wine, and Fletcher took it and refused to share, saying some childish thing along the line of 'finders keepers'.

Ghastly is almost impressed. Almost.

Fletcher lays his forehead down against the counter-top, heaving a long sigh as his heated skin meets the cool wooden material of the table. It's enough to make Ghastly feel more sympathetic toward the boy than he was hours ago, when Fletcher had shown up in front of his doorstep and asked him to get drunk.

"Do you think I should probably - meet someone new?" asks the boy, so quiet and slightly mumbled, Ghastly wouldn't have heard him if he wasn't paying attention.

The question takes him slightly by surprise. "So soon?" he furrows his brows in confusion. Being a few hundred years old, it takes a while for him to get over a heartbreak, but he does get over it, in time.

Perhaps it's different for the mortals, or maybe it's just the way teenagers are, these days, Ghastly isn't sure. He is pondering over this new-found knowledge when Fletcher says, "No, I mean. Meet someone _new_. Someone that is, uh, from the same gender."

Ghastly blinks.

Well. This is a new and interesting development.

Fletcher's face is flushed red - from the vodka and embarrassment, Ghastly thinks - but he looks determined and curious and _so young_. It's endearing. Skulduggery would've loved this, would've told him to go for it right at this precise moment, just for the hell of it. Ghastly doesn't.

Instead, he stands, grabs his coat and drapes it over the kid's shoulders, ushering him toward the exit. "Perhaps you should," he says patiently. "I will let you get back to it once you're sober enough to rethink all of your life choices."

* * *

 

Morning greets him with the sight of Fletcher retching his bowels in the bathroom, Skulduggery sitting on his kitchen table, and Valkyrie looking torn between rushing over to the bathroom to help or stay where she is.

Ghastly solves her problem by handing her a glass of water, waving his hand vaguely toward the direction of the bathroom.

Valkyrie doesn't even hesitate; she takes the glass from his hand, takes her coat swiftly off her body, then rushes in to the rescue like the heroine she is.

Her training has done her some good, Ghastly thinks. Anyone her age would've spilled the water everywhere, due to the gracelessness every teenager seems to own, yet with her, the water barely touches the rim of the glass.

She is growing too quick, and it saddens Ghastly to witness it.

Turning around, he crosses his arms over his chest, staring at his skeleton friend bemusedly. "Was there something?"

"Young love," Skulduggery tells him, all dramatic flair to full capacity, a long exaggerated sigh drawn out of his skull. Ghastly makes an inquiring noise. "She was moping last night. Apparently they had another love quarrel that resulted her nearly punching Mr. Mohawk in the face. I was forced to listen to her sulky silence the entire drive, can you imagine?"

"The kid dragged me to a bar to get drunk last night," Ghastly says. "Try and beat that."

Skulduggery pats him sympathetically on the shoulder, grabbing two cups and offering them to him as he starts the coffee machine.

* * *

 

It takes half an hour until Valkyrie and Fletcher emerge from the bathroom, and by then, Ghastly has finished preparing a full English breakfast, for the sake of his sanity. Skulduggery cracks a few inappropriate sex jokes that he tunes out, as expected, but the joke at least brings some colour back to Fletcher's face.

Ghastly gives Fletcher another thirty minutes to properly digest his food before he asks, face utterly blank of emotion, "So have you thought on our conversation about having it on with another bloke?"

Valkyrie chokes around a mouthful of strawberry-jam toast. Skulduggery accidentally rips a page out of the newspaper he's been reading. Fletcher flushes bright red from the roots of his hair and down - possibly - to the tips of his toes.

There is a round of coughing fits happening from Valkyrie's side and a lot of spluttering from Fletcher's. Ghastly barely manages to process everything, but he's got the gist of what the kid's trying to say.

"... I mean, it's not like I haven't thought about it, right, like, denial isn't even _on_ , that's some high school shit -"

Skulduggery scoffs. "Like you're not?"

"I'm bloody nineteen!" Fletcher snaps, throwing a bacon his way, which Skulduggery gracefully avoids.

"Basically, you're - uh, bi?" Valkyrie says. She looks intrigued and a bit - flushed. Ghastly does not want to know what's on her mind.

"Well, it's not - I'd rather not put a label on it," Fletcher tells her, looking anywhere but at Valkyrie herself. "I mean. _Clearly_ , putting some distance is rather impossible, what with the supernatural shit storm that's been happening, so. And. It's not like I haven't had my share of looking at attractive blokes before."

Valkyrie's cheeks are positively _burning_.

Fletcher keeps talking, stuttering his way through a confession of having a crush on this boy when he was seventeen, to Valkyrie admitting that she  _has_ looked at people of her own gender before, and wouldn't mind doing some exploring or two - and it's all horribly awkward and looks like something out of a shitty teenage RomCom movies that Ghastly doesn't even bother to stop Skulduggery from reaching into his cabinet for a bottle of scotch.

"I don't get paid enough for this shit," Skulduggery mutters, popping the cap open and pours the content until his glass is nearly full.

Ghastly shoves his own glass over and makes a noise of agreement.


End file.
